Washing His Soul Clean
by r4ven3
Summary: This is a two shot - Harry and Ruth - AU scenario, but within a canon context. None of what is written here would ever have occurred in Spooks, which is why I have rambled about it here.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: This is a one-shot which got away from me. Rated M for some adult concepts and conversation. Chapter 2 will be up in around 48 hours**_

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><p>He knew once he'd climbed the stairs to his bedroom that the shower he'd planned wouldn't be nearly enough to wash him clean, so he ran a bath, pouring bath gel under the running tap. Once in the bath he leaned back, with only his head and knees above the surface of the water. Soon the whole upper story of his house would be smelling of green tea …... <em>`With mild antiseptic properties, this body wash will revitalise your soul and body'<em>, the label had read. He'd need a bucket of the stuff were his soul to survive what had happened that evening.

With his eyes closed, he contemplated his more recent decisions. Perhaps the one to replace Lucas as a honey trap for the wife of an elusive smuggler of arms into Britain was not his best. When Tariq had uncovered Cleo Clement's preference for older men, Lucas had deemed himself unsuitable as the man to meet her in the bar of her hotel, and charm his way into her bed. Harry hadn't wanted this assignment either, and had begged Lucas to reconsider …... stating that, given his age, his ability to perform on cue could not be relied upon, to which Lucas had replied with one word, softly spoken for his ears only - `_bullshit'_. From that moment on, short of falling sick, or being badly injured, he'd had no way of wriggling his way out of it.

"Come on, Harry," Lucas had said, grinning, his voice low so as to not draw attention to them. "It's not as though you've not done this before. It'll be like riding a bicycle – once you begin, it will come back to you. I have faith in you."

Of course, there had been another largely unspoken reason why Harry had been reluctant to go ahead with the honey trap. No-one had been prepared to mention it, and especially not Harry, but everyone knew that he was not totally unencumbered emotionally, and worse, the object of his emotional attachment would be anything but pleased.

"It's not as though you'll even have to like her," Lucas had explained.

"I know that."

"Well, just remember to keep your emotions in a box, and take them out once it's all over. Easy."

And it had been easier than expected, and he had performed like clockwork, as he knew he would. He found that he quite liked Cleo Clement, and while they'd lain together in post-coital quiet, she had freely disclosed her husband's whereabouts, and so the assignment had been a success. So why did he feel so bad, so unclean?

Without thinking about it, Harry knew why, and perhaps so did the whole of Section D. He poured more of the green tea gel onto the surface of a sponge, and scrubbed his skin – his face, his neck, his arms, thighs, and especially his inner thighs and genital area. Once again he could hear Cleo's cries as she'd climaxed beneath him, and he quickly stood up in the bath, and scrubbed between his legs. Her mouth had been there, and there was not enough bath gel in the world to wash away the memory of that. He pulled back his foreskin and carefully cleaned himself there. He wanted nothing of this woman to remain on him. If only it were that easy to clean his mind, to wash away forever the memory of his evening with her.

_I'm just too old for this shit_, he thought, as he stepped out of the bath, and wrapped a towel around his waist, and headed through the doorway to his bedroom. Normally he'd be elated after sex, but not this time. He just felt world weary …... and unclean.

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><p>Harry had a need to speak with Ruth, but back on the Grid it was clear she was avoiding him. Three days later, on the Friday morning, he sent her a text asking her to meet him on the roof. He watched while she read the text, and then went back to her monitor, not even looking his way. He waited on the roof for twenty minutes, but she failed to appear. He headed back to his office via her desk, but she wasn't there.<p>

"She went to the loo," Tariq said, noting his confusion. "Women do that when they don't want to talk to you. I think she might be mad about -"

"Thank you, Tariq," and Harry had quickly turned and headed back to the sanctuary of his office.

He spent most of Saturday at the Home Office, conferring with various members of government. By the time he pulled his car into his driveway it was late, and dark, and the air was nippy. As he approached his front door, key card at the ready, a shadow appeared in front of him, from behind some bushes.

"Hello Harry."

"Ruth?" he answered. "This had better be important. It's late."

"Of course it's important. I need to talk to you." _Clearly_.

Suppressing a sigh, he led her down the hallway to the kitchen. "Tea?" he asked, as he turned to face her across the table. Ruth nodded, and he indicated she should sit down. He turned from her as he removed his jacket and his tie, and he opened the two top buttons of his shirt. He draped the jacket and tie over the back of a chair.

Harry was relieved to have the excuse to turn his back on Ruth while he filled the kettle, put teabags in the teapot, and gathered together two mugs, sugar and milk. By the time he turned to place the teapot and the mugs on the table, Ruth was sitting in a chair opposite him, her eyes on her hands which were folded primly on the table in front of her.

In those few moments, Harry took the opportunity to examine her. She was dressed casually in blue jeans, and a bulky blue jumper with a wide cowl neck, her coat now hanging on a hook just inside his front door, next to his own. To his eyes she looked vulnerable, young, frightened, and perhaps more than a little bit angry.

"I suppose you know why I'm here," she said at last, carefully sipping her tea, her eyes momentarily darting upwards to meet his.

"I imagine it's about what I …... had to do …. earlier this week."

Ruth placed her mug on the table, and stared down at it. "So …... you did it," she said quietly, her eyes now clearly avoiding his.

"I phoned through the information, Ruth. The operation was a success, and yes, I …... I had to go through with it. She told me nothing until afterwards."

While he was talking, Ruth lifted her eyes, but she quickly dropped them again, examining the surface of her tea.

"I wish I hadn't had to …... do that," he added.

"Why? You got the information you were after, and besides, I'm sure you …... enjoyed it." Ruth's words were like knives, directed at him; her intention was to hurt.

"Ruth …... it was work. It was hardly enjoyable. It wasn't ….. like you think."

"And what is it I think?"

"I think that you're angry …... and hurt." When she said nothing, he continued. "I think …... that you think …... that I offered …... myself …... to hurt you …... to get back at you."

"And did you?"

"Of course not. Only Lucas and I were in the right age group, and given she prefers older men, and loathes tattoos, that left …... me. I didn't have a choice. It wasn't …... enjoyable."

"I thought men always enjoyed sex."

"Not when it's work. And honey trapping is about so much more than the sex. It's about pretense. I had to pretend, Ruth. I was playing a role."

This time, when he looked at her, she was watching him. "I find that hard to believe. I mean …... how is it possible to pretend sexual excitement? A woman can get away with that, but a man has to …..."

"A man has to have an erection. Is that what you mean, Ruth?"

She nodded, still watching him, her eyes fiery, her expression belligerent. Harry wished he hadn't had to hurt her. Since her return from Cyprus, things with her had been difficult enough without this. "And a woman can fake an …... orgasm, but a man can't."

This time Harry nodded, still watching her, still aware of her unspoken judgement of him. Before he spoke again, he sighed. Ruth has always been such hard work. He loves her, of course, but at times like this she can be …... difficult.

"Becoming sexually excited is not hard for most men." He gazed across the table at her, but she remained impassive. "We …... even men of my age become …... excited at the sight of a naked woman …. at the prospect of a sexual encounter. We don't need to care for the woman. It's how we're made. It's how the species replicates itself."

"What you're saying is you had no trouble …... with her?"

"That's what I'm saying, yes. Ruth …... what is this about? I've told you it was work, and that I didn't especially enjoy it. Sex on command is not my preference."

What followed was a long silence which Harry knew better than to break. He watched Ruth while she struggled to find the right words.

"So ….." she said after some time, "what is your preference?"

_Jesus!_ How could he tell her that his preference would be to be with a woman he cares for …... a woman he loves and cherishes? How could he say that his preference would be to make love to her?

"I …..." Harry stumbled at the start, not wanting to be giving too much away. "I …. prefer to make love, Ruth, rather than just having sex. Making love is wonderful, but just sex can be draining …. diminishing."

"Did you feel diminished …... the other night?"

This time it was he who nodded, and he was sure he noticed a slight curving at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes softening as she observed his discomfort. They watched each other, with so much still being left unsaid. Harry waited a few minutes before he spoke.

"Why the interest, Ruth? It's not as though you and I are ….."

"No. We're not. That's what annoys me."

"You'll have to explain that."

"Well," and she took a deep breath, "I'm annoyed because I care this much about …... what happened Tuesday night, and yet we're not …..."

"We're not in a relationship. That is, we're in a relationship …... just not a relationship of intimacy."

Ruth nodded, and for the first time that night she smiled across the table at him. "I'd quite like a proper drink, Harry. I'm sure you must have alcohol somewhere in the house."

This time he smiled briefly as he nodded, and then stood to leave the kitchen. He came back with two small glasses, and a half bottle of whiskey. "Would you like one?" he asked, pouring one for himself.

"Just a small one," she replied.

They each sipped their whiskey slowly, watching the other from across the table. Harry was relieved that she seemed calmer, almost relaxed. Perhaps this was a good time for him to be pushing the envelope.

"Ruth …... would you like it if we …... you and I …... were in a relationship …... one of intimacy?"


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you to all who are reading this, and have left reviews. Here is the second and last bit.**_

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><p>"<em>Ruth …... would you like it if we …... you and I …... were in a relationship …... one of intimacy?"<em>

Harry had never seen her face change as quickly as it did right then. From relaxed and smiling, Ruth's expression immediately became guarded, and she dropped her eyes, as though she suddenly found her drink terribly interesting. He was familiar with this Ruth. This was the Ruth who'd turned down his second dinner invitation. This was the Ruth who kept avoiding his gaze, and walking away from any advances he'd made towards her. This was the Ruth who had turned down his proposal of marriage.

Alright, so that had not been his finest hour, nor had it been his best idea. As Ruth had said, his timing had been atrocious. But that had been over eight weeks ago, and yet here she was, in his house, acting …... hurt. It may even be reasonable were he to assume she actually cared for him.

"I shouldn't have asked you that," he said quietly, keeping his eyes down for fear she'd get up and leave.

"No. Your question was …... fair. I've been acting like …... like you said. I suppose that means …..."

Harry waited for her to finish the sentence, but she never did. They could sit at the table all night, speaking in riddles and unfinished sentences …... or he could take a risk …... a huge risk, a risk the likes of which he would not normally contemplate, especially not here, in his own house, with Ruth acting like ... well ... like Ruth. But he was so, so tired of ... this. He took a deep breath, and then he spoke.

"Ruth …... would you like it ….. were I to kiss you?"

Her eyes darted up to look at him, and all he saw in them was fear.

"Why?"

"Because I'd really like to kiss you, and I think you might enjoy it, also."

With his thoughts spoken, Harry rose to his feet, and with his eyes holding hers, he walked around the table to Ruth's side, and with one hand on the table, and the other on the back of her chair, he reached down and touched her lips with his. It was the lightest touch of soft skin on soft skin, and it was lovely, even though it had lasted less than a second. He lifted himself away from her, leaving his hands either side of her. She touched her own lips with her fingertips, and then looked up at him, her pupils dilated.

"Is that all?" she asked. "I thought you wanted to kiss me."

Harry knew his actions held more conviction than his words ever could, so he slowly leaned down, lifting one hand to Ruth's cheek, and then he kissed her again. The kiss began as soft and searching, but then he felt Ruth's hand at the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and her tongue touched his lips, seeking entry to his mouth. He then heard a moan, which may or may not have come from his own throat. Very slowly, he felt Ruth lift herself out of her chair, and slide her arms around his neck, and the kiss became serious …... and sexual. She pushed her body against his, grinding her hips against him, and this time he groaned with the thrill of such close contact with her body. Had he even wanted to, he couldn't have stopped kissing her, any more than he could have stopped his body from reacting to the heat of her hips pressed against his thighs. He felt himself thickening against her stomach, and he hoped that she'd not get upset and pull away. It felt so good to be kissing her in this way …... so good …... and he slid his hands under the hem of her jumper, only to find another layer of material. One hand moved to her lower back, holding her against him, while with the other he lifted her t shirt and slid his fingers across the bare skin of her abdomen until he reached her breast. He glanced his thumb over her nipple again and again until through the lace of her bra he felt it harden, and then he cupped her breast in his hand while he pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth.

Hearing her moan, he wrapped both arms around her, and lifted her slightly, so that his erection nestled against her heat. It took every ounce of his self control to not undo her jeans, and slide them down her legs. Every so often they pulled apart to get air, and then Ruth drew his head down to hers once more, and placed her lips against his. Harry turned her in his arms, and pushed her gently against the wall behind her chair. She had wrapped her legs around him, and her heat was against his crotch. He couldn't stop …..

He had to stop.

With the greatest of self control, Harry lifted his mouth from hers, and gently kissed her cheek, and then rested his cheek against hers, rubbing his raspy stubble against her soft skin, all the while breathing deeply to bring himself under control. At the same time, he drew his hips away from her, and Ruth unwrapped her legs from around him, so that once more there was space between them. She whimpered in protest, but he would not be swayed. This was not the way it should be with them …... not some frantic coupling against the wall in his kitchen.

After a while, Ruth was the one to speak. "Why did you stop?" she asked, pulling her head back to gain eye contact with him.

Harry took his time answering her. He was still fully aroused, and his hands still rested on her hips, while her hands rubbed up and down his sides, sending shivers through his whole torso. They could still continue where they'd left off …... he wanted to so much …... just not like this.

"I stopped, Ruth, because you are important to me."

Ruth's eyebrows lifted in a question, so he continued, struggling to find the right words, his cock still nagging him, demanding to be inside her – and the sooner the better.

"I don't want our first time to be …... some desperate shag against a wall. I want …... dinner first, and conversation. I also need your assurance that you won't run from me once we get …... closer."

Ruth drew away from him then, and he closed his eyes as her hands left his sides. When he opened them again, she was leaning her back against the wall, and the light caught her eyes so that they appeared a stormy grey.

"If I promise you that I won't …... run from you …... and Harry, I only did that because …..."

"Why Ruth?"

"Because …..."

He moved closer to her, resting one shoulder against the wall beside where she leaned, and she reached out with the fingertips of one hand, and began playing with one of his shirt buttons. She opened it, then closed it again, then opened it, the tips of her fingers sending shivers across the skin of his chest. It was driving him mad, and his cock again stood to attention, newly interested. Ruth dropped her eyes to the front of his trousers, and he was sure he saw a small smile on her lips.

"Because," she continued, "I felt inadequate ….."

"But Ruth, you're all I've ever wanted."

Her smile deepened as she lifted her eyes to his, and quickly leaned into him and touched his lips with hers. Again, she rested her back against the wall and watched him closely. "I know that now. I …... felt too young for you. I hadn't the experience you have had, and I'd believed you wanted some kind of …... sexual athlete, and I'm hardly that. I'm not sophisticated …... or worldly …..."

This time it was he who smiled …... with immense relief. "I don't want sophisticated and worldly. I've tried it and it's fake. Beneath the surface, we're all a bit inadequate, Ruth. I've been worrying that you thought me too old, and that perhaps I wouldn't be able to satisfy you. I was afraid you thought me …... pathetic."

When he uttered that last word, Ruth's eyes widened. "You're hardly pathetic, Harry. You're a real man …... in more ways than one." Again she glanced down to the front of his trousers, where it could be seen he was still partially aroused. "I'm sure you'll be able to …... satisfy me." Was that a small smirk he saw around her mouth?

Harry couldn't believe what she was saying. Was it going to be _this_ easy? Was all it needed for him to have taken a risk? He smiled into her eyes.

"Will you have dinner with me, Ruth? I want us to get …... reacquainted …... away from work. Besides …... it's such a long time since our last dinner date."

When she smiled and nodded, he couldn't help himself. He bent towards her and kissed her soundly before pulling away. "It's time I called a taxi to take you home," he said.

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><p><span>3 weeks later – early Sunday morning<span>:

Ruth opened her eyes to unfamiliar surroundings. She noticed that the window was not where it was in her own bedroom, and that there was a very warm body lying against her back, and an equally warm hand resting on her hip. She closed her eyes, and again opened them. No ….. it wasn't a dream. This really was Harry's bedroom. Very carefully, she turned over, lifting his hand from her hip. Harry was asleep, his full lips relaxed, his face a picture of contentment. She lifted herself on one elbow, but decided at the last minute not to wake him. He'd had a full week at work, and last night had been …... unexpected ….. extraordinary …... exhilarating. She closed her eyes, remembering the night before. She could still feel where he'd been …. all over her skin, as well as inside her. Ruth silently berated herself for waiting this long to …... experience Harry in this way.

Opening her eyes, over his shoulder she saw their clothes on the bedroom floor, strewn from the hallway door to beside the bed, where her black knickers and his sky blue trunks formed an untidy memorial to their eagerness to get naked so that they could make love. They had almost not made it up the stairs, but Harry had been the one to grasp her wandering hands in his, and lead her from the landing to the door of his bedroom. There they had stopped to tear off their remaining clothes. Ruth can remember popping at least two buttons of Harry's dark blue shirt; she'd heard them bounce off the hallway wall, and then roll across the hardwood floor. His trousers lay in a heap in the doorway, along with her crimson dress. So eager had they been to couple that they had made love on top of the duvet, eventually collapsing in exhaustion, his naked body partly covering hers. An hour later they had woken, both cold, and had then crawled under the duvet to sleep.

Suddenly, she felt him move beside her, and his hand reached out to bring her mouth to his.

"Good morning," Harry said lazily, once the kiss had ended.

"Good morning to you, too."

They smiled into one another's eyes, remembering the frenzy of the night before. They'd been to dinner five times since that night she'd visited him at home four days after he'd honey trapped the wife of Derryn Clement. Last night Ruth had announced that she had waited long enough, and that she would quite like to stay the night. So there she was …... in Harry's bed …. with Harry, himself all soft and lazy and well-loved.

Ruth pulled away from him, and turned to lift her side of the duvet.

"Where are you going?" he asked, a crease of concern forming between his eyebrows.

"To the loo. Is that alright with you?"

"Of course. I was worried you might be …..."

"Might be what?" Ruth hovered half in and half out of the bed, so that his eyes roamed over her naked body.

"I was afraid you might be …... going home, or …... leaving me."

It was then Ruth's turn to frown. She dropped the duvet, so that again most of her body was covered.

"Are you kidding?" she replied. "After all this time …... the last place I want to be is away from you. I'll be coming straight back."

"Good." Harry smiled at her.

"Why? What do you have in mind?"

He leaned back and stretched, so that the duvet slid from his bare chest and shoulders. "I thought we might try for round two."

"Round two? Are you sure you're up for that?"

He lifted the duvet and looked down at his body. "I think I might be, Ruth, but don't make me wait."

"Just don't start without me," she said, as she crossed the room to the en suite, her naked body on full display. As he watched her rounded bottom as she walked into the en suite from the bedroom he felt his cock beginning to swell.

When she'd finished in the bathroom, Ruth slid into bed beside Harry, and turned towards him to receive his kiss. They both hesitated before taking anything further.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, a frown forming between his eyebrows.

"I just need to know one thing ….."

"Which is?"

"Harry …..."

"Yes?"

"Did you have to …... pretend with me?"

"I'm surprised you even had to ask. Of course not."

"And will you promise me you never will?"

"Yes, Ruth, I promise."

"That's good …... now, where were we?"

"I think we were about …... here, Ruth."

"...Mmmm …... that's …... nice. More please."

And he continued to not pretend.


End file.
